House and Home - a Glee Mother's Day one-shot
by images-in-words
Summary: Three bits of Mother's Day fluff for all of you. Happy Mother's Day!


**House and Home** _a "Glee" Mother's Day special one-shot_

* * *

Kurt shifts his feet nervously outside the door. Every time he comes here, memories come flooding back. Memories of when his father and Carole first got together and started dating, memories of when he and Finn had tried unsuccessfully to keep them apart, memories of when they got married...and of course, memories of all that had happened in the immediate wake of Finn's death, crashing into their lives like a giant wave of shock and sadness. Every time he comes here, he wonders if it's the right thing, feels as though he should turn and run – and then, every time...

" _Kurt!_ Oh, sweetheart, what a surprise! It's so good to see you!" Carole cries, and her broad smile and happy tears are quickly joined by a smile and tears on his own face as she hugs him fiercely. "Come in, come in! Burt, look who's here!" she exclaims as she lets him go, stepping back to look at him with sheer joy shining in her watery eyes. She lost her biological son, but she's never treated Kurt like any less her son in spite of that, and the swell of love and affection he feels for her tells him – as it does, every time – that's he's definitely done the right thing, coming here, once again.

He steps in, not even bothering to wipe at the tiny rivers streaming down his cheeks. Memories recede, fade into the background. He hears his father's voice in the distance, coming closer. "Kurt? My boy's here? Where are you, son?"

"Happy Mother's Day, mom," Kurt barely manages to say, just before his father sweeps him up in a bear hug, driving the air out of his lungs with a slight _oof._ "It's good to be home."

* * *

 _Casa de Lopez,_ as Santana has always called it, has always been a boisterous place on this day. Her grandmother, Alma, sits at the head of the table like a queen surveying her court, watching her children and their children – her grandchildren – with proud, wise eyes, and all the assorted cousins, nieces and nephews as well, scurrying around the house, shouting and laughing with joy on this very happy holiday.

Mother's Day hasn't always been a festive occasion around here, but ever since she mended fences with Santana, her eldest grandchild, things have been so much better. She's not sure when she passed from stiff and grudging to real and true in her acceptance of the way her son's only daughter lives and loves, exactly, but she thinks maybe it might have had something to do with the tiny young woman who stole her _Santanita_ 's heart.

Rachel. She can't deny that the girl has been a joy and a blessing in her granddaughter's life since the day they'd first came into this house and announced that they were together. Alma recalls how she had looked – really looked – at Santana's face, in her eyes, as Rachel had spoken so passionately, so eloquently, about her love for Santana, and had seen that love reflected in equal measure. It wasn't so different from what she'd seen in her son's eyes when he'd declared his intention to make Maribel his wife years before.

She's been waiting for the child closest to her heart to walk through the door all day, and when she hears Maribel's cry of delight cut through all the other noise in the house, Alma knows that Santana has arrived at last, and Rachel with her. She's a little too old, a little too frail now to get up and walk all the way over to the front door and greet her beloved granddaughter, but she knows that after she escapes Maribel's arms, she'll come straight to her _abuela,_ as she has since she was a little girl.

And sure enough, not two minutes later, Santana comes to her, throws her arms about her neck – gently, ever so gently – and kisses her cheek, saying, " _Feliz dia de las madres, abuela. Te quiero._ "

Rachel kisses her other cheek and hands her a beautiful bouquet of roses – her favorite flower, as Santana must have told her back in the beginning – and says, "Happy Mother's Day, Alma. It's lovely to see you again. You look radiant as always."

Laughing, she replies, "It's not nice to flatter an old woman like that, Rachel. But thank you just the same." She lifts the bouquet, breathes in the wonderful aroma that never fails to remind her of how she felt when she was a younger woman, in bloom herself. "How was your flight from New York?"

"It was good," Rachel replies, smiling warmly. "No turbulence, for which Santana is grateful. You know how delicate her stomach can be sometimes."

"Hey! There's _nothing_ delicate about me," protests Santana from the comfort of the side hug in which her father has her. "Isn't that right, _Papi?"_

Rodrigo Lopez chuckles, grinning through his beard at his only child. Every time he sees her now, his breath is taken away at the beautiful, confident, self-assured woman she's become. The big man winks at Rachel before rumbling, "That's right, baby girl. You're still the most badass girl who never actually lived in Lima Heights Adjacent."

"Ay, _language!"_ Maribel scolds lightly, smacking her husband on the arm. "Don't listen to him, Rachel. We all know you know our Santana better than anybody. You _are_ her wife, after all."

Santana sticks out her tongue at her mother, drawing laughter from Rachel and a mock glare from Maribel. Then her expression turns serious, and she nods at Rachel, giving her the signal they'd practiced together at home in New York before climbing on to the plane that had brought them here, back home to Lima.

" _Mami, papi, abuela,"_ she says, and there's a note of nervousness in her voice, a look of sudden bashfulness on her face. "We have some news."

Maribel shares a look of puzzlement with her husband, and then the big man shouts, "EVERYBODY QUIET DOWN! SANTANA AND RACHEL HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO TELL US!" Instantly, the noise subsides, all the aunts and uncles and cousins peering at them intently, wondering what this could possibly be about.

"Thank you, _papi,"_ Santana says into the sudden quiet, her dark eyes wandering around the room to gaze first at her father, then her mother, then her grandmother, and then finally settling on Rachel, who's got her cell phone in hand. She nods again, and Rachel clears her throat as though she's about to sing a big solo on stage.

"My fathers moved away from Lima some time ago, as you know," Rachel explains. "Why they chose to retire to Florida instead of New York, I'll never understand – but be that as it may, they're no longer here for us to deliver important news in person, so I'm going to put them on speaker for this, if you don't mind." She taps the screen, and her father Leroy answers after the second ring.

"Rachel! Your father and I were just about to go for a walk. What's up?"

"Hi, Dad. Is Daddy nearby? Santana and I are in Lima with her family, and we have some news we'd like to share with you."

"I'm here," Rachel's other dad, Hiram, calls out breathlessly. "Is everything all right? Is Santana okay?"

"Yes, Daddy. She's fine. So are Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, and _abuela Alma,"_ Rachel replies in her most reassuring voice, knowing how anxious her daddy gets. "Say hello, Dad. Daddy," she directs, and the two men respond in unison, "Hello, everybody!"

"Hello, Hiram," Rodrigo says, and Maribel follows with a cheerful, "Hi, Leroy. How's Florida?"

"It's great, if you don't mind sunburn and rainstorms," Hiram jokes. His voice reverts to its usual serious tone as he asks, "So what is this news you need to share with us?"

"We didn't want to say anything until we were absolutely sure, but the doctor confirmed it just before we left to come here." Rachel pauses as Maribel gasps and begins sobbing, burying her face in her husband's meaty shoulder. Santana's smile blooms, her eyes catching and holding her _abuela's._ The old woman pales, not quite ready to hear what Rachel is about to say. "Santana's pregnant. We're having a baby!"

The house erupts in a cacophony of joy so loud that Hiram and Leroy's own whoops of happiness are completely drowned out. Alma reaches out for Rachel, hugs her with all the strength her old arms can muster, a fierce embrace in which she tries to instill all the pride and elation she feels right at this very moment.

" _Mi amado,"_ she says, her entire frail body shaking with pure delight. "I'm going to have a great-grandchild. You have blessed me, and our entire family, beyond measure."

"Just think, Alma," Rachel responds, laughing through her tears, "At this time next year, you'll be saying _Feliz dia de Las Madres_ to Santana."

"And to _you,_ Rachel. And to you."

* * *

Millie Rose has never quite felt sure and steady on her feet, even when she _wasn't_ blindfolded and being carefully led.

"Are you all sure this is _really_ necessary?" she asks, her fear and uncertainty clearly showing through in her voice as she wobbles along, one hand at her elbow, another at her shoulder. "I mean, I _could_ just close my eyes."

"And then you'd _peek,_ Mama. Now please, just trust us, okay?" her daughter Marley says from her right side, where she's holding on to her. Marley's other hand is on her lower back, gently pushing her along. "Quinn and I have got you. You're not going to fall."

"Well, if I do, good luck pickin' me back up. I may have lost a few pounds these last couple years, but I'm still not exactly what you'd call slim n' slender."

Quinn smiles at Millie's good humor. She pats the spot at the small of the large woman's back, where her hand rests. "Don't worry, Mrs. Rose," she says reassuringly. "It's not too much further now."

"I sure _hope_ not. I'm gonna need to sit my old butt down in another minute after all this walkin'. Where _are_ we, anyway?"

"We're still in Lima, Mama. In a part of town you haven't seen much."

"Not Lima Heights, I hope. Didn't your friend Santana once say that the girls there wear razor blades in their hair?"

"Quinn? You want to take this one?"

The pretty blonde laughs; she'll make Marley pay for this one later. "Um, Santana's father is a doctor. Her parents live in what's _still_ one of the nicest houses in Lima. I don't think she's ever even _been_ to Lima Heights."

"Then why -"

"Santana tends to exaggerate. Let's just say she likes for people to believe she's tougher than she really is. She's actually a complete marshmallow on the inside."

"Okay, no more talking. Stop for a second." Marley commands. "Stairs here." She gently guides her mother, Quinn following behind. "That's one, two – good, Mama, just three more – three, four, that's it. Great job!"

"Marley, girl, what's going on?" Millie's feeling a little confused at this point, a little bewildered. It's not like her daughter to play games like this. "Quinn, what's gotten into her?"

"You'll see in a minute, Mrs. Rose," Quinn replies. She hates seeing Millie so flustered, but it will all be worth it in just another moment or two, once Marley's done fishing for the thing in her pocket. "You'll see."

Millie hears Marley's feet shuffling, an old trick she used to use when she wanted to keep her ol' Mama from hearing something she didn't want her to hear, like the confession of a bad grade on a test paper. There's another sound, louder, a _clunk_ sort of thing, and then Marley says, "One more step, Mama. A small one. Step up. That's it."

The sneakers on Marley's feet don't make much noise, but even Quinn's heels are silent as they step onto...what is this? Carpeting? It's soft and plush and feels completely alien beneath Millie's feet.

A door closes. "Marley, girl, if you don't take off this blindfold in two seconds, I'm gonna -"

"Happy Mother's Day, Mama. Welcome to your new house."

Quinn gently removes the blindfold, and Millie looks around, completely befuddled. It's as though her brain has short-circuited, and she can no longer understand words, or anything she sees around her, save for her daughter's lovely face on one side of her, and Quinn's wide, happy smile on the other.

"What...what are you talking about, Marley? New house? I...I don't understand."

Quinn begins to explain. "Marley sold a song a while back, Mrs. -"

"How many times do I have to _tell_ you, child? It's _Millie."_

Quinn ducks her head. "All right. Millie. See, Marley sold a song to a major pop artist, and it's become a huge hit. Number one on the charts and everything. _Massive_ success. That means royalties. That means _money._ Congratulations - your daughter is now very, _very_ wealthy."

"Wait...what?" Millie turns to her daughter in disbelief. "You sold a song? And that means you – you're rich? How?"

There are tears freely flowing down Marley's face now, but Quinn can't stop smiling. This is her moment, the one of which she's been dreaming for as long as she can remember, the one she'd confided to Quinn during their first night together, when they'd gone from being friends to being lovers, the first stop on their way to being much more.

"Publishing, Mama. That's where the money is in the music business these days. One giant hit single can set a songwriter up for life. I mean, it's not something that happens often, or – or at least it's not something I ever expected would happen to me, but..."

Marley's overwhelmed with emotion at this point; she collapses into her mother's heavy arms, shaking and trembling. Millie holds on to her baby, holds on tight, still not quite processing what's happening here.

"She's right," Quinn offers, filling in the blank. "And smart, too. See, Marley _owns_ her publishing. No one can take it away from her. From now until the end of time, that song will be generating income for her. It's already generated a lot. I mean, a _lot._ "

"Enough to buy you a _house,_ like I always wanted. A _real_ house, with a backyard and a swimming pool, and a big kitchen where you can cook anything you want."

"This... _this_ house?" Millie looks around again in wonder, blinking at the unreality of it all. "This. House?" The living room is cavernous, all big and empty, just begging to be filled with furniture that's not second hand, that doesn't come from yard sales and junk shops. With art on the walls, real paintings, and soft lighting that doesn't hurt her tired old eyes. "This is – _my_ house?"

"It is, Mama," Marley answers, bursting with pride. "I bought it for you. After everything you've done for me, all the hard work and long hours, all the slaving and sacrificing, all the scrimping and saving just so we could survive...I mean, it's the _least_ I could do."

"Oh, Marley! Oh, my girl!" Millie exclaims, finally allowing the tears she'd been holding back to burst forth, nearly crushing the poor young woman in another hug. "I – I can't _believe_ it! I can't believe you did this."

Quinn throws her arms around Millie and Marley too, the emotion of the moment running so high it fills the entire room. It's even better than her dreams, and she's so glad she's here to share in their joy. There's absolutely nowhere else she'd rather be.

Marley pushes herself away, half-crying, half-giggling, wiping the tears from her eyes, grateful she'd chosen not to wear mascara this day. Her heart is already so full it feels like it might explode, but there's one more thing she has to say, one more thing that she and Quinn have got to to tell Millie. And it's even bigger and better than the revelation of Millie's new status as a homeowner in the nicest part of Lima.

"Mama...there's something else you should know. I've wanted to do this for ages, but..." Marley's voice trails off as she fishes around in the pocket of her jacket for something.

The small black box, trimmed with gold, is as lovely a thing as Millie's ever seen. Quinn's eyes are glistening with tears, and she's smiling the biggest smile ever as Marley's shaking hands open the box to reveal the breathtakingly gorgeous ring that's nestled inside.

She carefully removes the ring, not wanting to drop it and lose it in the thick pile carpet, and takes Quinn's own trembling hand, fingers splayed.

The ring slides gently, delicately, along Quinn's slender finger, coming to rest perfectly, as though it was always meant to be there. _Maybe it_ _ **was**_ _always meant to be there,_ Quinn muses, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings in her chest. _Maybe that ring knew it was meant to be on my finger, just like Marley and I were always meant to be._

"Lucy Quinn Fabray," Marley begins breathlessly, going down to one knee on the pristine white carpet. "Ever since the day you rescued me from my former boss at work, I have been completely spellbound by you. Your beauty is matched only by your intelligence, your grace, your compassion, your insistence on always doing the right thing no matter what." She pauses, needing to steady herself, feeling light-headed, as though she could pass out at any moment. "I've already felt that I was the luckiest woman on the planet, being with you these last two incredible, spectacular years. Now I feel like I would be even luckier if you would do me the extraordinary honor of agreeing to marry me."

Quinn throws back her head and laughs, overtaken by joy. " _Yes._ Yes, Marley Rose. I'll marry you. Today, tomorrow, forever. Yes." Marley springs up from her half-kneeling position, squealing with happiness, capturing Quinn in a passionate, lingering kiss filled with all the promise of the great future she knows is in store for them.

Millie sways on her feet, feeling unbalanced. She can't quite believe all the good fortune, all the happiness her little girl has brought her today. "Oh, my," she says. "My baby is getting _married!_ "

"Save the date, Mama," Marley beams. "Mother's Day, next year." She gestures to the tall window that's flooding the kitchen with light from the backyard. "Right out there, with all of our friends, and you giving me away."

"Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Rose," says Quinn, planting a kiss on her soon-to-be mother-in-law's plump cheek.

"Quinn, girl -"

Laughter all around. "Millie," she corrects herself. Then a thunderbolt of a thought strikes her, and she squeezes her fiancee's hand. "No. Mom."

"That's better," Millie says with a firm nod. "That's _much_ better."

 ** _\- end -_**


End file.
